


Blank Space

by pidgeotto_gunderson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 14:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12367506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeotto_gunderson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson
Summary: Keith navigates life, love, mental health, and his spring semester of college.Remix of Fill Me In by Agapostemon





	Blank Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Agapostemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fill Me In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512381) by [Agapostemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon). 



> this is for the 2017 VLD Fanfic Remix, which i've had a great time participating in! [cardboard castles](https://archiveofourown.org/series/650162) is my absolute favorite fanfic series, and [fill me in](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512381/chapters/21514565) in my favorite of the series (which i definitely recommend reading FIRST, since the weird progression of this will make way more sense when you have all the context), so i was so happy to get to remix it!
> 
> fill me in is the retelling of all theses scenes (and a few more) by keith to shiro, and i decided to take the pictures i had in my head of how those scenes actually happened and put them in words, so here it is!
> 
> and to agapostemon: i hope i did your fic justice, and i'm honored to have been able to remix it!

**Monday, Sep 5**

 

Keith has spent a lot of time in a lot of places he didn’t want to be in.

 

Calculus class at Southern Arizona College is one of those places.

 

He’s not supposed to be here. And Keith doesn’t mean that in a _‘shit did I go to the wrong classroom?’_ sort of way. He really, genuinely is not meant to be in this damn college. He should be in Pasadena, California right now, flying through his classes at Caltech, and yet…  

 

Here he is, at a _state school_ in Arizona, trying to decide where to sit in his intro-level calculus class, which he’s retaking because, in his previous year, he failed the basic prerequisite to his _entire major_. Rather spectacularly, at that.

 

He’s ten minutes early, because he’s got to at least _start off_ on the right track, so a lot of chairs are still empty. Which means a lot of tables are still devoid of people. A good thing, on one hand - Keith doesn’t have to choose who to sit by or anything - but also a bad thing, since now there is still the question of who might take the seat next to Keith. He’s not all that worried - he can always change seats if necessary - but he really doesn’t need to deal with whatever weirdo might try to insert themselves into Keith’s life. He doesn’t need any distractions, not after -

 

 _Stop,_ Keith chides himself. _Don’t go there. It’s a seat, for fuck’s sake, just pick one._

 

After standing in the doorway for what feels, at least, like a much longer time than he should have, Keith finally steps into the classroom properly, picks a seat in the back of the classroom, at the end of its table, and sits down.

 

_So far so good._

 

Nobody says anything to him as he pulls his notebook out of his backpack. He’s eternally grateful for this, even though Shiro would surely give him his patented _big brother_ look and tell him to _make friends_ or something to that effect.

 

He doesn’t need friends. He needs good grades.

 

And anyway, he has Pidge.

 

He _has_ to do well this semester. He has to keep it together and _not fuck this up._ He’s got a second chance here, at SAC, and he can’t ruin it this time.

 

People start filing in soon, and Keith barely knows one face from another. He doesn’t care enough to make note of any of them, until -

 

He’s chewing on the end of his pencil when he sees him.

 

Brown skin, bright bright blue eyes. Short brown hair under a blue snapback, sharp cheekbones, what looks to be a smattering of freckles across the nose. Toned body donned in a tight tank top and cargo shorts, a smile so bright it could light up a room.

 

Tall. Lean. Confident.

 

He slides into a seat a couple rows in front of Keith - right in his eyeline, of course - next to some mousy redheaded girl, and then he opens his mouth.

 

And whatever attraction Keith felt toward him shrivels up and dies.

 

Keith’s not entirely sure what he says to the girl because he process much past the boy’s smile, but he knows it’s loud. Obnoxiously so. And embarrassingly flirty. There’s an eyebrow wiggle and everything.

 

Somehow, the girl doesn’t seem too adverse to whatever it is he says, actually giggling a little and shyly tucking her hair behind her ear.

 

Disgusting.  


Absolutely, positively -

 

Distracting.

 

Fuck.

 

_No, nope, no way. Not happening._

 

He has a list of rules for this semester (rule number 1: don’t get distracted, rule number 2: don’t isolate yourself, etc.), and he thinks he might have to tack another one onto the end of the list.

 

_Rule number…24 or so?: Don’t develop a crush on loud, obnoxious boys in your intro-level calculus class. Or any boys, for that matter. Especially not ones who shamelessly flirt with girls they probably don’t even know._

 

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

  
  


**Thursday, Sep 15**

 

Keith likes the library. He likes the smell of wood and old books and the isolation of it all.

 

And the quiet.

 

Sure, it’s quiet at home, but there’s still the looming possibility of Shiro coming home early for any reason and wanting to…to _talk_ or something. The library is just quiet. All the time. It’s a _rule._

 

Except for right now, which, really, is just fucking typical, because anxiety is already scratching at Keith’s head and crawling under his skin and _the cute boy from his calculus class is flirting with the librarian._

 

He’s flirting with the _librarian_ , and he’s doing it _loudly,_ too. It’s all cheesy pickup lines and unfunny jokes and unnecessary volume; Keith is going to lose his damn mind.

 

Lance is his name, Keith knows from roll call in calc, but all he is in Keith’s head now is the cute boy who wears snapbacks and flirts with librarians. Christ’s sake.

 

Keith grinds his teeth together angrily and - no, no, stop. Stop. He’s not going to get angry over some random kid popping his bubble of silence.

  
  
Mindfulness.

 

Right.

 

He’s just starting one of the breathing exercises Shiro is always telling him to do when he feels like this, because it’s been a really shitty day and he’s anxious and pissy and -

 

Keith’s grip on his pencil tightens.

 

He’s going to scream or bang his head in a wall or flip a table or -

 

“Oh, hey!”

 

Oh, this cannot be real.

 

“Keith, right? I’m in your calculus class. Name’s Lance, if you didn’t know.”

 

Keith slowly drags his eyes up to Lance, all the while digging his nails into his palm and telling himself to _breathe._

 

“I know,” he grits out. “What do you want.”  


If Lance is fazed by his tone, it doesn’t show. “I saw you sitting over here by yourself and thought I’d see if you wanted to study together.”

  
  
His smile is blinding up close. Keith is going to need sunglasses if this boy stands here much longer.

 

He blows a breath out through his nose, counts to ten. Lance is staring at him expectantly. Keith is going to explode.

  
  
“I don’t,” he says, harshly and pretends he’s not the slightest bit curious what would happen if he said yes.

 

Lance’s smile wavers, just a little. He hoists his bag up a little higher on his shoulder, says, “Ah, okay, no worries. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

 

 _Actually, I don’t,_ Keith thinks.

 

“Great,” Keith says, more than a little sarcastic.

 

Lance walks off to the elevator, even though there are plenty of perfectly empty tables around Keith, and hits the UP button. And hits it again. And again, and again, and again, as if the elevator’s actually going to go faster that way.

 

Keith rolls his eyes and goes back to studying.

  
  


**Saturday, Oct 1**

 

He can’t believe Shiro talked him into this.

 

He’s been standing outside Pidge’s apartment door for the past five minutes, trying to decide whether he’s in an okay enough headspace to deal with _game night_ , of all things, tonight. He keeps teetering back and forth, because sure, he likes Pidge, and sure, it’d be nice to talk to someone other than Shiro, his therapist, and his professors for a while, but Pidge has roommates.

 

Roommates Keith doesn’t know. Roommates Keith has never even see before. Roommates who could turn out to be total assholes or something - though, admittedly, Pidge would never hang out with anyone too bad.

 

 _She hangs out with you_ , his mind supplies. Keith tells his brain to shut up, and forces himself to knock.

 

The door swings open within ten seconds, and then -

 

Holy _fuck._

 

He’s greeted with bright bright blue eyes and that blinding grin and god _damn,_ he can’t believe Shiro talked him into this.

 

Lance asks, “Are you Pidge’s friend?”

 

Keith nods mutely, and Lance slams the door in his face.

 

He’s left staring dumbly at the door, brain still stuck on _Lance from calculus class is Pidge’s roommate._

 

Lance is Pidge’s roommate.

 

_Lance is Pidge’s roommate._

 

How did he not know this? And better yet, how could Pidge possibly room with _Lance,_ of all people?

 

He doesn’t get to dwell on it too long, though - the door swings open again after a few moments, and Pidge appears in front of him.

 

“I don’t know what Lance has against you,” she says, arms folded in front of her, “but if you two ruin game night, I swear I will never speak to either of you again.”

 

And Keith knows she’s bluffing there - Pidge will hold a grudge for a long time (he’s heard stories of her ignoring her brother for weeks on end just because he ate her candy bar or something) but even she can’t stay mad forever. Regardless, Keith really isn’t in the mood to deal with a pissed-off Pidge.

 

“Got it,” he replies, because surely he can make nice for one night.

  
  
  


He can’t make nice for one night.

 

Or, really, _Lance_ can’t make nice for one night, because they’ve barely even sat down to play Pokémon Monopoly before he’s declaring Keith his personal rival and beginning his three hour long attempt to specifically bankrupt Keith.

 

It’s ridiculous.

 

Not only is it ridiculous, but it’s also completely and totally futile _._

 

Keith gets Nidoking and Nidoqueen and kicks his _ass._

  
  


**Saturday, Oct 8**

 

“Hunk,” Keith says desperately, “how the hell is quiche funny?”

 

Hunk just shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, man. I think Lance has got you beat.”

 

Keith groans loudly, burying his face in his hands, and tugging on the hair at his hairline. Lance whoops from a few feet away - they’re playing _Cards Against Humanity_ and the two of them were tied until just now. Until Hunk picked Lance’s card.

 

It’s not a big deal. Really, it’s not.

 

“Ha, I beat you!” Lance shouts. Through his fingers, Keith sees him pump a fist in the air. Lance’s voice goes sing-songy, putting a tune to his words: “I wo-on, I wo-on~!”

 

Keith makes a small, strangled noise. “Lance, could you -”

 

‘Nope!” Lance doesn’t even let him finish his question, though he’s not quite sure exactly what he would’ve said. “I’ve beaten my rival, I’m the _king_ of this game!”  


Seriously? Is this how it’s going to go?

 

“I won, I’m better than you!”

 

Apparently it is.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

He can handle this. It’s just Lance being stupid, that’s all. Nothing new there.

 

“Congrats, Lance, you’ve officially bested your rival,” Hunk says, and it’s not even sarcastic. There’s actual enthusiasm there, like he’s totally 100% on Lance’s side. Like it’s a legitimate rivalry and Hunk has thrown his weight behind Lance. Which, really, isn’t particularly surprising, since they’re best friends and all, but it still…stings. A little.

 

(A lot. More than it should. It’s not a _big deal,_ for _fuck’s sake.)_

 

Irritation and a tinge of hurt are bubbling up in Keith’s stomach - he crosses his legs under him, running his hands up and down his thighs to try to calm his frayed nerves. Anxiety’s hitting him out of nowhere, like a fucking Mack truck, and he’s not sure whether he’s actually breathing or not.

 

“Stop,” Keith says, slightly choked around the lump in his throat. “God, just - shut up.”  


But Lance keeps going. He’s on his feet now, way too fucking excited for something this miniscule. “You lost! I won! You’re not even on my level!”

  
  
Going, going -

 

“I’m better than you and it’s proven now! I win!”

 

_Gone._

 

Keith is on his feet in seconds, his chest tight. He actually can’t breathe right, too busy trying to get his heart to stop racing and his hands to stop trembling.

 

“Stop - stop it! Shut up, Lance!” he yells, and it sounds too loud even to his ears.

 

Three sets of eyes turn to him, and he can _feel_ their confusion, and a little bit of concern, in the air.

 

“Jeez, Keith, calm down,” Lance says, placatingly, but still the tiniest bit gloating. “It's just a joke -”

 

“Shut _up!_ ” Keith gives a wordless shout and throws his hands up. “Just - just shut the fuck up! I'm done, I can't -”

 

He can't do this, he can't do this, _he can't do this._

 

“Keith -”

 

“I’m going home, I'm, I’m done!”

 

Three voices blur together, trying to calm him down, trying to get him to stay, but with that, Keith stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  
  


**Monday, Oct 31**

 

“I can't believe we lost Pidge and Hunk.”

 

Keith sighs, wrapping his arms tight around his torso in a futile attempt to warm himself up. It's not quite _cold_ outside, but it's chilly enough to make goosebumps rise on his uncovered forearms. “I’m not surprised we lost Pidge, just - how the hell did we lose Hunk?”

 

Snorting, Lance says, “Maybe we should keep them on those baby leashes, that way they can't wander off.”

 

He pats at his hips, then down his chest, and his brows furrow. “Uh…Keith, you have your phone, right? I think I left mine at home.”

 

“Yeah.” Keith pulls his phone from the pocket in the inside of his costume robe - his Prince Zuko outfit might not be the warmest, but at least it's versatile - and clicks the power button. And clicks it again. And again. “Shit.”

 

He can feel Lance’s eyes on him, can practically visualize the unimpressed look that's surely plastered on Lance’s face as Keith presses and holds the power button to see if -

 

Nope, nothing. Black screen, no power whatsoever.

 

“Matt’s going to kill me,” is all Keith can think to say.

 

“What - Matt?”

 

“I lost Pidge and my phone’s dead and her brother is going to _kill me.”_

 

“I - she's seventeen, Keith, she can take care of herself,” Lance says, only a little exasperated. “And anyway, Pidge isn't your responsibility.”

 

“I know, but -”  


“No’ but’s!” Lance cuts him off. He grabs Keith’s wrist, starts tugging him along; Keith tries to resist, for a second, but Lance is adamant - and stronger than he looks. “Pidge and Hunk know where they last saw us, they’ll double back eventually. In the meantime -”  


Lance’s fingers are warm on his skin. Keith hates that he notices.

 

“- there’s a hill around here I like to chill on sometimes,” Lance is saying. Keith almost, almost wishes Lance would move his fingers, just a little, and hold his hand instead of his wrist. _Almost._ “We can wait there until they circle back and find us.”

 

Keith wants to ask - _how are they supposed to find us if we’re not in the same place -_ but Lance doesn’t drag him very far before he’s dropping Keith’s arm and sitting in the grass, setting his candy basket down next to him.

 

Keith stands there. He thinks his hands are shaking, but it could just be the cold - either way, he feels like his feet are glued to the ground.

 

Lance leans back on his hands, tilts his head back to look at him. “Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna sit down?”

 

He half-wants to stay right where he is. But the other half wins out, easier than he’d like to admit, and he drops to the ground about a foot away from Lance, setting his candy basket down too and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

 

It’s quiet.

 

Well, not really - there’s still kids running around, laughing and screaming, because it’s still Halloween and it’s still not that late - but Lance is silent, for once, and Keith can’t find anything to say.

 

Lance is dressed as Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and his costume is, admittedly, spot on, hair and all. Keith’s practically memorized every detail in the costume because, as much as he wishes he could, but he hasn’t quite been able to take his eyes off Lance all night.

 

He’s staring even now, he knows. But the dim light of the moon is casting this soft glow across Lance’s face and it’s more than a little mesmerizing.

 

And then Lance turns his head toward him and smiles this faint little smile that makes Keith’s stomach twist. Looking away will make it worse, so Keith just skirts his eyes over Lance and says, voice miraculously level, “Have I told you how good your costume is?”

 

“You have,” Lance replies, and Keith might have turned away now, but he can _hear_ the smile in Lance’s voice, still.  


Keith’s toes curl in his boots. He hates this, hates this breathless, floaty feeling in his gut that he can’t seem to get rid of.

 

Lance pulls his legs to his chest, hooks his arms around his ankles, rests his chin on his knees. He almost looks sad, for a moment, before his head tilts up to the sky and he asks, “Do you know the constellations?”

 

 _This is not a crush,_ Keith tells himself. _This is not a crush. There are no feelings, so there’s no crush. Your stomach feels weird because you haven’t eaten anything since this morning. You probably should have, but that’s not - it doesn’t matter. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this, you wouldn’t fall for him._

 

_God, “fall for”? It’s a fucking crush, not -_

 

_No! It’s not a crush!_

 

“Dammit,” Keith mutters.

 

“What?”

 

 _Shit._ “Nothing, I - the constellations, I know a few of them.”

 

“Do you know the stories?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Lance hums. “Scorpius and Orion are my favorites. There’s a bunch of different myths, but the one my mama used to tell me was that the goddess Artemis found out that Orion wanted to kill every creature on Earth. And since Artemis promised protection for animals, even though she’s a huntress, she sent a scorpion to sting and kill Orion, then had them both put in the sky as constellations to remind humans of the story.”

 

At some point in this, Keith must’ve unconciously scooted closer to Lance, because now there’s barely three inches between them. Lance’s voice is soft, lulling, and Keith thinks he could just sit here and listen to him tell stories for hours.

 

“Tell me some of the others,” Keith says quietly, as if anything louder would shatter this moment.

 

Lance obliges.

 

Pidge and Hunk find them here, about a half hour later, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder under the night sky, whispered words hanging above them, floating up and clinging to the stars that smile down at the two of them.

  
  


**Tuesday, Nov 8**

 

**[Lance 4:35 PM]: yo**

 

**[Lance 4:35 PM]: keithy**

 

**[Lance 4:35 PM]: keithers**

 

**[Lance 4:36 PM]: kitkat**

 

**[Lance 4:36 PM]: keke**

 

_[Keith 4:37 PM] if you ever call me keke again it very well might be the last thing you ever do_

 

**[Lance 4:37 PM] im surprisingly okay w/ that**

 

**[Lance 4:37 PM] but anyway**

 

_[Keith 4:38 PM] what do you want_

 

**[Lance 4:39 PM] what makes u think i want smthing**

 

_[Keith 4:41 PM]: you only call me weird nicknames when you want something_

 

**[Lance 4:42 PM] this is an assault on my charater and im offended that you think so little of me kitkat**

 

**[Lance 4:42 PM] charater**

 

**[Lance 4:42 PM] charater**

 

**[Lance 4:43 PM] CHARACTER**

 

**[Lance 4:43 PM] fucks sake**

 

**[Lance 4:44 PM] anyway**

 

_[Keith 4:44 PM] charater_

 

**[Lance 4:45 PM] fuck you**

 

_[Keith 4:46 PM] buy me dinner first_

 

**[Lanec 4:48 PM] oh my god keith**

 

**[Lance 4:48 PM] oh my god???**

 

**[Lance 4:48 PM] k e i t h  omg**

 

**[Lance 4:48 PM] i cannot believe you just made a joke**

 

**[Lance 4:49 PM] and a SEX JOKE at that omg**

 

**[Lance 4:49 PM] you DO have a sense of humor**

 

**[Lance 4:50 PM] im screenshotting this for evidence when i tell hunk**

 

**[Lance 4:50 PM] i might frame it and put it on my wall who knows**

 

**[Lance 4:50 PM] also who do you think i am, of course i’d buy you dinner first**

 

**[Lance 4:50 PM] im a GENTLEMAN thank you**

 

**[Lance 4:52 PM] keith?**

 

_[Keith 4:53 PM] here_

 

_[Keith 4:54 PM] did you want something or not_

 

**[Lance 4:54 PM] oh fuck right yeah**

 

_[Keith 4:56 PM] lance?_

 

**[Lance 4:58 PM] i totally forgot what i was gonna ask**

 

_[Keith 4:59 PM] goodbye lance_

 

**[Lance 5:00 PM] ill remember eventually**

 

**[Lance 5:00 PM] byeee**

  
  


**Saturday, Dec 4**

 

As much as Keith hadn’t wanted to go to the first game night he was invited to, he’s even more uncertain about this one.

 

There was no door slammed in his face, sure. And Lance has yet to declare Keith his personal rival of the night.

 

But the game of choice?

 

Truth or Dare _Sorry._

 

The rules are simple: Whenever someone tries to bump another player back to Start, the game turns into Truth or Dare. If the person doesn’t answer the truth or do the dare, they lose their turn and whoever they were trying to bump stays in place.

 

Innocent enough, right?  


_Wrong._

 

It starts off pretty tame, with questions like _if you were stuck on a deserted island with only one other person, who would you want it to be?_ and _If you knew the world was about to end, what would you do?_ and stupid dares like _talk in an Australian accent for the next four rounds._

 

But, as with anything Pidge and Lance are involved in, it escalates rather quickly.

 

By the fifteenth round, Keith has had to regale the story of the most illegal thing he’s ever done (breaking into a shut-down amusement park during one of his…less-mentally-stable moments), call a random number and pretend to be a cop busting them for _illicit cyber activity_ (Lance’s idea, didn’t go very well), and describe his first kiss (bad. Just bad).

 

At least he’s winning, though.

 

He’s already got two of his _Sorry_ pieces in the home space and another well on its way; everyone else is a ways behind him. It’s a little amusing, how every time Keith takes a turn, Lance groans dramatically, Hunk grumbles under his breath, and Pidge fixes him with a glare so murderous that Keith actually does fear for his safety, just a little.

 

Okay, it’s more than a _little_ amusing, right up until he tries to bump Pidge back to Start and she gets this impish grin that would make a grown ass man run for cover.

 

Keith doesn’t deserve this.

 

Whatever Pidge has cooked up now, he doesn’t deserve it.

 

Pidge’s lip curls up even farther, to Keith’s distress, and her voice is silky-sweet when she asks, “Truth or dare, Keith?”

 

It’s going to go badly either way. So, _so badly._

 

Either one will be as embarrassing as humanly possible. But, he figures, a dare will just be something stupid and silly and potentially-minorly-illegal. Truth, on the other hand, is sure to get way too personal for Keith’s liking.

 

“Dare.”

 

With not a second’s hesitation, Pidge says, “I dare you to kiss Lance.”

 

Keith vaguely registers a choking noise from beside him, but he’s too busy gaping at Pidge to take any note of it. Pidge is full-on grinning at him now, and even Hunk is laughing softly, muffled by the hand over his mouth.

 

Lance is saying something, all sharp indignance, and Keith makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. All eyes turn to him. 

 

Keith can’t look at Lance. If he does, he’ll surely do something he’ll regret later. He stares, instead, at the ground, gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists.

 

Until Lance’s hand touches his arm, fingers curling gently around his wrist. Keith’s head jerks toward him so fast he practically gives himself whiplash, and he’s met with flushed cheeks, a sheepish smile, and blue blue eyes.

 

Lance’s voice is just loud enough for Keith to hear and just enough for Pidge and Hunk not to. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s okay, I get it. S’for the game, it’s no big deal, man.”

 

_Right._

 

_For the game._

 

Keith glances at the board. He _is_ winning, by quite a bit.  


If he wasn’t almost sure to win, so long as he doesn’t start lose turns, there’s no way he’d do this. But he’s almost certain to win, if he keeps up the way he’s been doing.

 

At least then Pidge will quit making fun of him for losing every time he comes to game night…  

 

He turns back to Lance, competitiveness burning in his chest.

 

_For the game._

 

_No big deal._

 

Lance’s lips taste of coffee and vanilla and something Keith can’t quite put his finger on. The kiss is barely even a kiss, by normal standards - it’s really just Keith smushing his mouth against Lance’s for the _sole sake of winning,_ but it still technically constitutes as a kiss, which is all he needs.

 

Except then Lance pulls back just enough to break the kiss, cups Keith’s chin in his hand, tilts his head, and connects their lips again. Lance’s mouth is warm on his, lips moving carefully, gently against Keith’s. Of its own accord, Keith’s hand comes up to clutch Lance’s sleeve, other hand stuck hovering in the air.

 

Is it the best kiss he’s ever had? No, not really. Noses bump and teeth clack and mouths don’t know nearly as much about each other as they could, but it’s Lance, so Keith -

 

Jerks away like he’s been burned, face flushed and lips tingling, breath coming out in sharp, shallow pants. His hand flies up to his mouth, wide eyes fixing on a spot on the floor. Keith swallows hard, and he can still Lance’s fingers on his skin, taste vanilla on his lips.

 

And Pidge is laughing.

 

Pidge is just about wheezing from the other side of the _Sorry_ board, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as she says, “Wow - wow, holy shit, I didn’t - I didn’t expect you to actually do it!”

 

Keith looks at her. Glances over at Lance, whose face is just as red as Keith’s surely is, then quickly back to Pidge.

 

“I, uh -”

 

Keith cuts himself off, leaning forward to pick up Pidge’s _Sorry_ piece and placing it on Start. He’s willing his blush to subside, but judging by Pidge’s continued snickering, it’s not working.

 

Lance clears his throat, loudly, from next to him. Keith braces himself for something - something stupid, or flirty, or obnoxious, or some combination of the three, and then Lance says, “Who’s turn is it?” and Keith gives a sigh of relief.

 

Pidge says, “It’s Hunk’s turn, lover boy.”

 

Keith breathes in.

 

But before anyone can say anything else, Hunk picks up a card and starts reading it off, voice booming loud enough that no one can talk over him.

 

Keith breathes out and the game resumes.

 

The world keeps spinning. He wins by a mile fifteen minutes later.

  


**Thursday, Dec 15**

 

“You know, I’m not much of a photographer, but I can picture you and me together.”

 

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does. Keith’s fingernails dig into his palms as he watches Lance flirt with some short blonde girl that Keith doesn't know, smiling and laughing and - and -

 

Ignoring him.

 

They're supposed to be studying together, him and Lance, and yet all Keith wants to do is bolt. He’s standing a few feet away from Lance and the girl, trying and failing to not be pissed, an awful feeling he doesn't quite recognize curling and twisting his stomach in knots.

 

It's ridiculous. He has no _claim_ to Lance, no right to be upset. Sure, Lance is blowing him off, and sure, it's to _flirt_ with someone else, at that, but it's not - it's not like he's _cheating_ on him or something. Lance is allowed to talk to whoever he likes, flirt with whoever -

 

The girl laughs, all high-pitched and giggly, and Keith seethes, the urge to run, or punch a wall, or punch _Lance_ growing by the second.

 

 _Breathe, Keith_.

 

He sucks in a breath through his nose, holds it. Watches Lance finger-gun at the blonde and exhales loudly and angrily, much sooner than he'd intended. Lance doesn't notice. Keith’s chest hurts.

 

This is so fucking _stupid._ He doesn't know why he feels like this, like someone knocked him over and then kicked him while he was down. It's just harmless flirting and it hasn't even been that long, just a couple of minutes. Lance will remember that Keith is standing _right there_ soon.

 

“Get a fucking grip,” Keith mutters, low enough that the two don't hear him.

 

Except he can't because the girl’s hand is on Lance’s arm  they seem to have shifted closer, and anger is boiling up in Keith’s stomach, making its way to the surface.

 

_Calm down, calm down, calm down._

 

Lance is a free agent. He can do whatever the hell he wants, with whoever the hell he wants. He doesn't belong to Keith, there’s no reason for Keith to -

 

“I could take you out sometime,” Lance is saying.

 

\- be jealous.

 

Fuck.

 

He's jealous. Jealous of this girl who got Lance’s attention without even trying. Jealous of the fact that _this_ is who Lance flirts with, rather than -

 

Rather than him.

 

The realization does nothing to stop the aggravation rising in his throat. Instead, it makes tears prickle in the backs of his eyes, because he did exactly what he told himself not to _._

 

He's broken a few of his self-made semester rules over the past few months, but this one had gradually become the most important and now he's fucked that up too.

 

_Rule number 24: don't develop a crush on loud, obnoxious boys from your intro-level calculus class._

 

Or, as it's become over the semester: _don't develop a crush on Lance._

 

But here he is, entirely lost to corny jokes and cheesy pickup lines and blue blue eyes.

 

Keith drags his fingernails up his forearm, trying to ground himself on something, anything. Lance is still oblivious to his turmoil - Keith pulls his phone out of his pocket, sees _4:52_ flash on the screen, and growls low in his throat.

 

They were supposed to start studying at _4:45._ And yet, he’s stuck standing outside the library, watching the guy he - the guy he _likes_ , because he might as well admit it now, try to get a girl’s number right in front of him.

 

“Lance,” Keith says, before he can stop himself. There’s no acknowledgment. “ _Lance.”_  


Lance turns, glancing over his shoulder at Keith, and holds up two fingers. “Hey, yeah, uh - just two seconds, okay? You can head in if you want.”  


Keith scowls, huffing angrily. “Lance, we’re supposed to -”

 

“I know, I know,” Lance replies offhandedly. “Just gimme a minute.”

 

Keith’s hands are shaking. He twists the ends of his hair around his fingers, eyes burning, face flushing. He can’t do this, can’t stand here and deal with this, but he also can’t leave. If he leaves, it’s like he’s giving up, conceding defeat. Like he’s got no chance.

 

But maybe he doesn’t.

 

Really, why would Lance want to be with him? Why, when he could be with someone - someone nicer, friendlier, _better._ Someone _stable,_ at the very least. 

 

Why would anyone want to be with the boy who got himself kicked out of college, who flips out at some of the tiniest problems, who takes a razor blade to his skin just to watch himself bleed.

 

Who would -

 

Why would -

 

Before Keith can come back, fully, to himself, his feet are moving, and then his fist is slamming into Lance’s back - hard, but thankfully not as hard as it could’ve been.

 

 _Shit shit shit,_ is the only thing running through Keith’s head as he watches, almost from a distance, Lance double over, wheezing slightly. He vaguely registers a small shout from the girl, but it’s blurry, just like his vision, and just like whatever Lance is saying.

 

Yelling, really. He’s pretty sure, at least. He can see Lance’s mouth moving, see the wide, angry gestures, but it’s all only half-happening to Keith.

 

The blonde girl has walked away, apparently unwilling to take part in the turn of events. Lance runs an agitated hand through his hair, and he’s still shouting, shouting at him, and -

 

“I’m, I - I didn’t mean -” Keith’s voice wobbles. “I’m sorry, I -”  


And then Lance laughs. Hands on his knees, leaned over, just completely _gone._

 

“What - what are you -”

 

Lance waves a hand at him, choking out in the midst of his laughter, “Jesus Christ, Keith, you - fuck, okay, it’s not funny, I shouldn’t be laughing, you - are you okay?”

 

“Um,” Keith says, blankly.

 

“Keith, hey, seriously, are you good? You here?”  


“I think so.”

 

Lance nods. Glances back, seems to take note of the fact that the girl is gone, and sighs. “Okay, I’m - I’m sorry, too, alright? I shouldn’t have ignored you, I’m -”

 

“Stop, stop,” Keith cuts him off, because he can’t do this anymore. He’s had enough, more than enough, really. Jealously is still burning in his chest, but he shoves it down, down, down. “Just - can we forget about it? Please?”

 

Grinning, Lance replies, “Yeah, sure. So…we good? Can we go study now?”

 

_No! Nothing is good, here! It shouldn’t be like this!_

 

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

  
  


**Tuesday, Feb 14**

 

Keith has never been more grateful for Shiro, his wonderful big brother who hasn’t been on a date the whole time Keith has lived with him but still comes up with great date ideas, as he is when he spreads a picnic blanket on the grass on a cliffside and Lance’s face _lights up._

 

“Are we - are we stargazing? Did you take me stargazing?” Lance asks, all with rapid-fire excitement, grin practically overtaking his entire face.

 

Keith gives him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yes? Is that okay?”

 

“‘Okay’?” Lance repeats, almost incredulously. “This is great, Keith! I love stargazing.”

 

“I know,” Keith says. When he pulls a picnic basket out of the trunk of the car, Lance actually gasps.

 

Keith sits down next to Lance, leaving a safe distance between them, and placing the basket in front of them. They’ve technically already eaten dinner at a _really good_ Vietnamese place that Lance picked out, but it’s all snacks and finger foods, anyway. “There’s tiny sandwiches, fruit, crackers and cheese, a bunch of things on skewers, chocolates…Uh, I tried to make sure there was a lot, since I’m not really sure what you like, and, um -”

 

Lance cuts him off. “Keith. It’s great. Thank you for this, really.”

 

Keith preens, smiling to himself. He’s spent the last two days freaking out about this, their _first date_ \- and hopefully not their last - and he’s so glad he hasn’t fucked up.

 

Yet, at least.

 

Lance leans forward, opening the picnic basket and digging through it. He rustles around for a moment, and then -

 

“Uh, are there plates?”

 

“Of course there are -” Keith pauses, the amused look on Lance’s face throwing him off. He scoots forward just a little to look in the basket and find the plates, the last dredges of light from the sunset just enough to see.

 

Except.

 

Except he really did forget plates.

 

“Fuck,” Keith says. “ _Fuck._ ”

 

Lance laughs, but for once, it’s easy for Keith to tell that it’s not _at him._ It’s soft, good-natured snickering that has Keith laughing along, snorting into his hand.

  
“I can’t believe I forgot plates!” Keith moans.

 

“Hey, it’s okay!” Lance grabs a two tiny sandwiches and a tupperware of strawberries out of the basket, handing one sandwich to Keith and taking an exaggeratedly small bite of the other. “Look, plates are completely nonessential, anyway. Especially with sandwiches this tiny and cute.”

 

Keith hums, shoves his sandwich in his mouth in lieu of replying.

  
  
  


“That all was really good, Keith,” Lance says when the picnic basket is near empty and neither of them can eat anymore. It’s been going well, since the plate incident, the two of them laughing quietly and making idle conversation. The sun has faded away completely, by now, leaving bright, twinkling stars in its wake.

 

Keith smiles at him, even though Lance probably can’t see it. “Thanks.” He puts his elbows on his knees, rests his head in his hands, craning his neck to look at Lance. “Would you…would you tell me about more of the constellations?”

 

“Of course!” Lance scoots forward, then leans back, lying on the blanket and using his arms as a pillow. “Which story do you wanna hear?”  
  
Keith lies back, too, parallel to Lance. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

 

“Just wanna hear me tell the stories?”  


“Yes,” Keith says, because he _can._

  
Lance sputters a little and Keith is sure his face is bright red. “Oh, uh - right, yeah, I can do that.”  


There’s a short stretch of silence, then Lance starts talking, telling the story of the Leo constellation. Keith isn’t quite registering all of it, though, just reveling in the sound of Lance’s voice, his attention too focused on memorizing the profile of Lance’s face in the moonlight.

 

When Lance’s first story ends, he doesn’t hesitate before launching into another. He points out the constellations in the sky as he talks, and Keith does his best to follow along.

 

Somewhere into the third story, Keith’s pinky brushes against Lance’s, their hands having gravitated towards each other. As the fourth tale begins, Lance seems to abandon all subtlety and just takes Keith’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together with not even a break in his storytelling.

 

Keith feels like a character from one of those cheesy, romantic movies.

 

He loves it.

 

And if he scoots a little closer to Lance, shifting so their arms are pressed up against each other as well as their hands…well, it _is_ a little chilly tonight.

  
  
  


It’s nearly 11 PM when Keith and Lance walk up to the door of Keith and Shiro’s apartment, still hand-in-hand. They’ve been quiet ever since they got out of the car, but it’s a soft, comfortable silence that, instead of making Keith antsy and anxious, actually calms him.

 

He likes this - being with Lance, _really with him,_ being able to hold his hand and just be this close to him. He likes _Lance,_ and he likes that he can say it now, even if it’s just in his head, without choking.

 

Keith releases Lance’s hand when they reach the apartment in favor of pulling his keys out of his pocket. Giving Lance a small smile, he steps up to the door.

 

But Lance is staring at him. And Keith can’t get his key in the fucking keyhole because his hands are shaking and Lance won’t stop staring at him.

 

He wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss Lance _so badly_ right now, and he thinks he just might.

 

Keith finally gets the door unlocked, and Lance still hasn’t taken his eyes off the back of Keith’s head. He opens the door, wanting nothing more than to kiss Lance, but not sure if he can. If he’s allowed to.

 

“Hey,” Lance says softly, making Keith turn back to him. “I had a great time tonight.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Would you want to…” Lance runs a hand through his hair, clears his throat nervously. “Uh, would you maybe want to -”  


Keith interrupts, “Yes. Yes, I’ll go out with you again.”

 

Lance’s smile is contagious. “Really?”

 

“Of course.”

 

It doesn’t seem possible, but Lance’s smile grows even wider. “Great! We’ll, uh, we’ll figure out the details later?”

 

Keith nods, as steadily as he can. He wants to kiss Lance _so badly,_ as the boy touches his hand one last time and says quietly, “Goodnight, Keith.”

 

“Goodnight, Lance,” he breathes, and then, “Oh, fuck it.”  


Keith kisses him.

 

Grabs him by the collar of his shirt, his other hand flying up to the back of Lance’s neck, and kisses him hard. There’s a split second where Lance doesn’t respond, stiff in Keith’s hold, but then he relaxes, lips moving against Keith’s.

 

And this, _this_ is the best kiss Keith has ever had.

 

Lance’s fingers tangle in Keith’s hair. Keith is breathing in Lance, Lance, Lance, and he’s never been happier.

 

The kiss breaks fairly quickly, and Keith misses Lance’s lips as soon as they’re gone.

 

Lance doesn’t go far - their foreheads stay pressed together, and Keith can feel Lance’s breath on his nose, still.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Lance whispers.

 

“Then why didn’t you?”

 

“I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

 

Keith pulls back just enough to look Lance in the eyes, still half-stuck on _I’ve been wanting to do that all night._ “I wanted you to,” he assures. “I _want_ you to, Lance.” 

 

Lance’s face flushes red, but he’s beaming, too. “Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me now, Keithy-boy.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

Keith walks into his apartment with a seemingly-permanent smile plastered on his face and the promise of more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated (and to anyone following my fic [breathe me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804287/chapters/20185300), i'm working on it, i swear)


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